


Kindhearted

by foldingcranes



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Depression, M/M, Post-Fall of Overwatch, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rehabilitation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-10-08 10:47:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17385074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foldingcranes/pseuds/foldingcranes
Summary: Jack goes to rehab.





	Kindhearted

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be revisiting this story. Probably.

At the clinic, Jack had a cactus named Gabe.

He hoped that his friends and husband never found out about it because he didn’t feel like being made fun of for being such a sentimental sap.

Jack talked to it, sometimes, at night when he knew everyone else was asleep and he was trying to avoid the nightmares. Ever since he stopped drinking, they had been coming back with a vengeance -- flashes of bright light, jumbled noises, screams that won't end, Ana's face full of panic and fear, Gabriel's face a mask of the man he called his best friend. Every time, Jack woke up in a cold sweat, fevered and dizzy, heart beating too hard and fast. And every time, Jack rested a hand over his heart and forced himself to remember that Ana was okay. That Gabriel wasn’t a monster and Jack had him back. That Torbjorn and Reinhardt and everyone else was still alive.

All of them. Alive and well, struggling to change the world once again, safely secluded in Overwatch’s new base, under Winston’s smart leadership. Jack trusted them all, old and new, to be okay.

“You’re not in charge anymore,” he sighed to himself, laying back on the bed. “Quit it, old fool.”

 

**

 

"You're not okay." That was the first thing Angela said to Jack after he removed his mask and answered the recall, dragging his feet back to the old base with Ana and Gabriel by his side.  _ None of us are okay _ , he thought,  _ you’re not okay either _ . Jack refused to listen to her on multiple occasions until his drinking got the better of him in the form of headaches and shaking hands. Until the nightmares became too much for him. Until the smell of smoke and ash only reminded him of what he had lost and he started to become a liability on the battlefield. A heavy weight on his friends’ and colleagues’  backs.

There was a rift, between the people Jack loved and him, and in the middle, addiction stood like a broken old bridge, mocking Jack for his unwillingness to fix it. You sad, old fool.  _ When will you get your shit together? _

He froze during a reconnaissance mission as Ana fell near him, injured. More than anything, Jack wanted to go to her, to shield her from the bullets. But his feet were glued to the ground and he couldn’t seem to get enough air when he breathed. By the time Gabriel reached them and made sure Ana was safe, Jack was still glued to the ground. He lashed out at Gabriel as soon as he tried to touch him, the sight of smoke sending Jack into a painfully familiar spiral of panic. Then, he blacked out.

 

**

 

Here’s what they don’t tell you about war:

They don’t tell you that it never, ever fades away. War chipped away pieces of you until you were left incomplete, trying to fill the holes and fix the broken parts with whatever you had left.

No one ever told Jack that he’d spend a lifetime fighting only to never know how to  _ stop _ .

That’s how he ended up at the clinic, anyway. Because he didn’t know how to stop but wanted to. Because he had to crawl his way back to the medbay at the Overwatch facility and tell Angela that she had been right and yes, he was sick. Yes, maybe he needed help.

He just wanted to sleep without having to swallow two bottles of whiskey. Without nightmares and tremors, without hesitating each time his friends and family offered comfort. Jack wanted to be able to belong to himself again and not to the fake comforts of alcohol.

Hence, the clinic.

Jack hadn’t liked the idea, at first. The thought of admitting to having a problem and surrendering his freedom didn’t sit well with him. But Angela encouraged him to try. And Ana and Gabriel promised to visit him as much as possible, even if Jack never requested that of them.

(He was, as much as it pained him to admit it, too embarrassed to ask.)

The first days at the clinic were hard. His room was painted in whites and soothing baby blues with the purpose of creating a calming atmosphere, but it only served to make Jack feel like he wasn’t in the correct place. The bed was just too soft, especially after years of living on the run. He spent the first night sleeping on the floor, bundled up in a couple of blankets until the nurse working the morning shift shook him gently by the shoulder and asked him to get up.

Jack felt like a ridiculous, insane old man. Completely out of place, beyond repair. Jack knew he was the oldest patient at the facility, and sometimes he imagined everyone's eyes on him, singling him out. He wanted to disappear into himself. He told this to Ana during one visit, only to receive a scoff in response.

“What you need,” Ana said, “is a way to pass time. You can’t sit idle, Jack. You’ve never been good at that.”

Ana was, as always, right.

After talking it over with his therapist, she came back to their next session with Jack’s first plant. The little, prickly cactus that Jack (lovingly) jokingly decided to name Gabe. His cactus sat proudly on his windowsill, and soon it was followed by other small potted plants. A succulent from Lena. An aloe plant from Angela. A beautiful anthurium with red flowers with a cute bow from Reinhardt. A delicate looking peace lily from that bratty soldier, Hana Song. A Christmas cactus from Torbjorn (“To bring some color to your life, you sad fool.”) Even agents McCree and Shimada came by, carrying a huge ficus with them. The last one of the bunch was a small snake plant that Ana affectionately gifted to Jack along with a kiss to his cheek. “You don’t change, do you?”

The thing is that, sometimes, Jack felt like the only way he could be happy was when he was taking care of someone else. Or something else, in this case.

Ridiculous or not, he slept better knowing that his small garden needed him in order to thrive.

 

**

 

At the end of the second month, Gabriel visited him. He entered Jack’s room with his hands in his pockets and with curiosity clear in his eyes as he examined his surroundings. His eyes went from Jack’s unimpressed face to the little garden under the window. Next thing they knew, Gabriel was walking towards the plants with a smile on his face.

“Ana told me about your children.”

“I’m not their father,” Jack grumbled.

Gabriel snorted, holding the tiny potted aloe in his hands. “When you word it like that…”

Rolling his eyes at him, Jack sat on the bed, letting Gabriel do as he pleased. “How’s everyone doing?”

“Good,” Gabriel replied, softly running a thumb over one of the plant’s leaves. “The new Overwatch is… something. Not quite what we built but. Somehow, they’re getting stronger every day.”

Gabriel took a pause, looking out of the window. Jack watched him think, knowing well the thoughtful expression Gabriel wore when he wanted to put his ideas in order, face lined with age and scars now.

“They miss you,” Gabriel finally said, setting down the aloe to pick up his namesake. Gabe The Cactus looked absurdly small in Gabriel’s hands. “Overwatch is never the same without you. If it’s going to keep growing, you need to be there. So,” Gabriel smiled, giving the cactus back to Jack. “You need to get better soon.”

Jack blinked a couple of times, eyes stinging a little. He sniffled, keeping his eyes down. That’s when he noticed the little bud on the cactus. Pretty soon, it'd turn into a cute, small flower.

Smiling, Jack thought about how much he wanted to see it bloom.

**Author's Note:**

> [Find me here.](http://www.twitter.com/foldingcranes)


End file.
